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eyes. 
He stepped back, allowing Dean and Jimmy to get Gordy upright between them,
while still holding Jan’s gaze.
    “Wasn’t anything he could
do, Janet.  Shit happened, we’re all alive and no one is bitten.  Ahhhhh,
FUCK!”
    Gordy cried out as the
two men tried to lift his foot above the threshold of the door, the toe of his
boot just barely bumping the wood.
    Jan let out a breath,
finding a small measure of relief that no one was bitten, though she wouldn’t
entirely relax until she had checked all four men for possible infections.
    “Get him up on the
table.  The three of you wait here, everyone else out.”  Jan spoke with such
force that raising her voice was unnecessary. 
    Jimmy caught his wife’s
eye just as she was turning to leave with the rest of the small group that had
gathered outside the door.  Worry creased her face, causing laugh lines to
deepen and darken.  He wanted to feel for her, to reach out and comfort her
like he knew she needed to comfort him.  He gave her a short nod and turned
back to Jan and the others cramping the small building.
    “Someone needs to tell me
what happened,” Jan said as she prepared to cut the leg from Gordy’s camouflage
cargo pants. 
    Lifting his head to see
what his wife was doing, Gordy grunted, saying, “Don’t cut it, damn it, just
help me to take them off.”  He began unbuckling his belt, nearly in tears with
the effort.
    “What the hell are you
doing, Gordon?”
    “My favorite pair,” He
replied, breathing heavily, as sweat began to roll down the sides of his face.
    Jan paused for a moment,
just staring at her husband before setting the emergency shears down and moving
his fumbling fingers from the buckle.  She quickly unbuckled the belt,
unbuttoned the pants themselves and began to slide them down past his hips.
    Gordy began to wheeze and
grunt with every jerk of the fabric, fighting back a scream.  He didn’t seem to
care that his boxer shorts had pulled half-way down his hips. 
    “Damn, Gordo, if you were
any whiter you’d be transparent.” 
    “Fuck you J-Jimmy,” Gordy
shot back, stuttering at a spark of pain.  He tried a grin, but his face could
only mirror what felt to him like electricity and fire both in his knee. 
    Gordy and Jan both gasped
when she slid the pants past the knee, Gordy from the painful rubbing of the
heavy fabric, Jan from the sight of the swollen and bruised knee.
    “What the hell did you do
Gordon?  It has to be swollen nearly twice the size of normal.”  Jan probed as
gently as she could at the tight, darkly bruising skin surrounding Gordy’s
knee.  No matter how much he tried to hold still, he jerked and twitched at
every touch; both touch and twitch igniting bolts of pain up and down his leg.
    Jan sucked air through
her teeth as she spun around, grabbing items from a nearby shelf.  Tearing open
packages, snapping and shaking and rustling plastic bags, she soon had several
instant ice packs surrounding the knee.  A rolled up towel helped to brace the
knee in a slightly bent position.  She sent Dean and Rick out to get two long
branches, at least an inch thick, to use as splints to immobilize the leg,
preventing further injury to the damaged tissue. 
    Every movement was swift
and efficient, and Jan had the knee iced, braced, and the leg bound in a splint
within minutes.  Throughout everything the other men had been explaining to her
what happened in the concrete ditch as they were watching the armory.
    “So you guys are certain
that these people are the same ones that somehow got zombies through the woods
and close enough to where our crew was working to draw them in, as well as
shooting up our guard shack, surprisingly without killing anyone.”
    “No doubt, Mom.  I
recognized the pickup as the same one that drove by several times, as well as
shooting at us.  The VW Bug that Arianna stole was there too.  It’s got to be
how they know we’re here.”
    Jan stood at the small
cabinet where